


When Art Screams

by TheNightHunter



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Blood, Fearlings, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightHunter/pseuds/TheNightHunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurora is an original character I've made to fit into the fandom of Rise of The Guardians for role playing purposes. I started out writing this as a starter and I suppose it still is one but it sort of got more epic in detail then I meant for it to. I suggest you read her history before ready this story. It might make more sense then.</p><p>The story itself is about one of the rare nights her hunger gets to a whole knew level of twisted. </p><p>Aurora's History: http://furiandarkling.tumblr.com/history</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Art Screams

**Author's Note:**

> My role playing profile for Tumblr:   
> furiandarkling.tumblr.com 
> 
> Beta: Needs One

Aurora wasn’t often inclined to be near her victims, it was easier to watch them suffer from afar, and to be honest she normally wasn’t into what she had to do. There are rare occasions however when she has this violent urge to rip her prey apart. Utterly devour their dark energy and drain them dry. Rip their minds apart and leave the screeching in the night, babbling nonsense, and never recovering. She tended to find the quiet ones, the ones no one would ever suspect of falling apart. She revealed in their innocent shells and drank in the bitter sweetness of that hell they kept locked away within their hearts.

 

Tonight was such a night and she was hunting for a particular subject in which to utterly destroy…tonight would be different from the others nights. She wouldn’t simply obliterate the mind; the body as well would pain the walls. Her frustration with her own life was burning bloody ulcers into her brain. It would be a grand old time tonight, she smirked darkly and the fearlings within shuddered and moaned at her corrupted intent. She was of no friend to anyone tonight, she was not to be messed with tonight…if she had intent to kill then she would have no problem ending anyone who stood in her way.

 

She moved through the streets until she was within the unsavory part of town, within the distance was a lone loft and within was a suitable target. Someone within that simply down on their luck and looking to get their life together, too bad she was about to make sure they never got that chance. All at once she was a looming shadow, thick and inky darkness moved toward the home, devouring everything in its sight. A stream of hell itself was pouring into this small loft. Every light she touched went out and small animals died in the process. Rats, mice, and small cats were all victims of the darkness tonight and in the morning everyone would be horrified and scarred from this night.

 

Her entire being seeped into the cracks and opens of the loft, covering everything and almost making it rust and ruin, and everything organic rotted and died on the spot. It was easy enough to fill the room this person was sleeping within. They would never wake again and would die in agony within a nightmare. Perhaps nightmares weren’t specialty but she could certainly drive a person mad when she had the desire. She purred softly and wrapped her darkness around the unsuspecting victim. At once she dug into their heart and explored the deepest parts of it, the bitter spaces under all that love and hope.

 

It wasn’t easy forcing the black rage forward, making the bitterness spill into the veins and forcing the darkest memories and emotions forward. The brain was now figuratively hemorrhaging every sick and twisted emotion and thought it could. The person before her began to scream and claw at their own skin, ripping themselves open as if trying to get the demon that was within out. She moaned out and shuddered, the room was literally overflowing with dark energy and horror. It was as if she was having the best fucking she had ever had in her life times twenty. She leaned against the wall and arched up, the more she moaned, the louder her victim screamed. A slow and hollow smirk crossed her lips, she slid closer to her victim and listened to the screams and shrieking of the person in her grasp. Crimson life spilled into the night and made the air itself almost damp with it. She whimpered ever so softly, it was almost too much.

 

It felt so good to be so utterly immersed in this gruesome show of art…this room was her canvas after all and this body was her paint. She licked her lips and forced more bitter calignosity that was still handing in the furthest reaches of this one’s heart. The thrashing grew so violent that it was shaking the bed and threatened to break it in to. The screams, the begging, and sobbing spilled into the air like a madness lullaby sweet and traumatizing. The life of this pour soul was pouring onto the mattress and running like a stream into the floor. It was amazing what people could do to themselves when they were too busy to feel pain.

 

After some time, the screams became pained whimpers, the throat was too shredded to make much more sound. She slid her fingers over the chest and dug her fingers in, ripping their chest cavity open. One last broken screech and there was nothing more left…she tore them open, and painstakingly removed each and every organ before carelessly throwing it against a wall, the ceiling or then the floor. Not to mentions the window got its fair share of splatter art.

 

Once she was done, she stood back and looked down at her horrendous take on destructive art…it was usually at this time she was beside herself and sickened by her own actions but tonight…she still wasn’t sorry and perhaps that was a very terrible sign.

 

Before she could think too much, the lights flickered on and she blinked several times and looked toward the door…

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I want to make a second chapter for this or not...and if I do...who should be the one turning on the lights? A Guardian, Pitch, or just some poor human checking on the screams?


End file.
